2017 A-Z Challenge theme reveal: Storybook illustrations undone from A to Z

Nickers and Ink joins the April A to Z Challenge and National Poetry Writing Month for another year. That means I aim to write and publish 26 poems (titled from A to Z), with new ones appearing daily (except Sundays) throughout the month. Thousands of bloggers and poets participate in these annual events.

Here’s my Nickers and Ink Poetry and Humor theme reveal for this year's April challenges.

Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.

  

Storybook illustrations undone

(A rhymed request on April's fest)

My pen I will prime,

As April appears.

Old drawings I’ll rhyme,

So lend me your ears.

I’ve chosen some sights

From sketches of old.

In blitzes and bytes,

I’ll swap what they’ve told.

The alphabet full,

From A down to Z,

My musings will cull,

For truth’s repartee.

Right or wrong,

Come along.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Double back daily, so you won’t miss any of these poetic posts from A to Z. Comment, if you will, with a link to your own latest blog post.

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Happy A to Z and NaPoWriMo.

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Initial Ideas: A Brainstorm Acrostic

(From my poetry archives)

Acrostic poems need not contain rhyme or meter, but this acrostic poem does. Brainstorms offer creative notions, new ideas and open-ended possibilities. What brainstorms are brewing in your own imagination today?

Initial Ideas: A Brainstorm Acrostic

Beyond all notions we have known,

Remarkable ideas are shown.

An atmospheric freedom waits,

Inspiring ever widening gates.

No boundaries may block our way;

Still forth we step, as step we may.

Tomorrow’s truths may telegraph.

Our colleagues twitter, taunt and laugh.

Reject the ridicule, and stand.

Mere brainstorms grow to concepts grand.

c2009 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

“The Dreamer,” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1879

Public Domain

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Art Class Impasse

When it comes to art, mine’s not exactly just abstractly. Quite matter of factly, it might catch some flak-ly.

Art Class Impasse

(Going – going – gone!)

Invited to pull up a seat,

A studio session to meet,

The truth I’ll confide:

I cringed and I sighed

And hastened to beat my retreat.

The teacher arranged a sweet vase

With flowers assembled in place.

My cohorts drew fine,

While I sipped the wine

And stared at my easel’s blank space.

My languid attempt drew a glare.

The master arose from his chair.

He paced and he huffed.

He stomped and he scuffed,

My still life drove him to despair.

I dabbled and dabbed with the paint.

(Remember, a Rembrandt I ain’t.)

The blooms impish seemed.

The vase unredeemed.

My canvas begged high-pitched complaint.

The merciful end came at last.

I glanced at my painting, aghast.

The colors betrayed

Unspoken tirade.

I had to get out of there fast!

To draw, paint, or sculpt is a gift.

The artistic muse left me stiffed.

Don’t mean to kvetch,

But attempting a sketch?
The mere thought can set me adrift.

Perhaps we may each have a flair,

With talent and passion to spare.

But I’ll be the one

Who’s coming undone,

With art to complete and compare.

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Bayfront Painting Class, 1945, vintage/public domain. (Thanks, Sepia Saturday.)

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

ABC Wednesday: “G” words

One-Liner Wednesday: See subtitle (above).

Three-Word Wednesday: “high-pitched,” “impish,” and “languid”

#BeWoW

#1linerWeds

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